Rein of Blood
by Wolf-of-the-North
Summary: Cling while you can, my hero. Your anchor can't hold you down forever. Dark!Stiles. Sterek. Alpha!Peter. AU/Season 2 divergent.


_Cling while you can, my hero, _

_Your anchor, won't hold you down_

_Forever _

_Summary: When Stiles loses his father, he loses his anchor. Unable to stay chained to order, he lets himself be taken by the sea of chaos. AU_

_Warnings: Dark, dark Stiles. Parings are: Sterek, Jydia, implied Piles, Scisaac, implied Scallison. Knotting/Implied Knotting is included in this story._

_This story was inspired by __Dogs of War__ by Saucery. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

I was tired of crying. I had cried for weeks when my mom had died. I had cried when Victoria Argent was almost successful in killing Scott. I had cried when my not-so-secret crush had lost his Alpha-ship to Peter when he resurrected himself. I had cried when Gerard kidnapped me and beat me and because of the resulting panic I put my father through. I had cried when I officially lost Lydia to Jackson when he shifted from Kanima to wolf. But when my father died, I didn't cry. I just felt numb.

And rage.

That was how I found myself staring into Peter Hale's mischievous ice blue eyes, doing the one thing that I swore I'd never do. I was asking for the bite. Peter laughed as he surveyed me from the top of the staircase. According to Derek on the night of the Worm Moon, Peter had preformed an ancient ritual that had transferred Derek's lycanthropy to the deceased Alpha. If Derek had been a beta or an omega he would have been stripped of all his power, but since he was Alpha he had just been forcibly shifted to beta. Since that night, I had only seen Derek once, and that was at the funeral for my dad. I felt tears threatening to fall, but I held them back.

"What's wrong, little pup? You smell like tears. What happened?" asked Peter, sounding sarcastic and concerned at the same time.

"My dad is dead," I ground out.

"Oh, the might sheriff has fallen. Is that why you want the bite Stiles? To take revenge on person who killed him?" said Peter, as though this was an everyday occurrence. I stared at him wondering how he knew about the hit and run.

As though reading my thoughts the elder Hale rolled his eyes and said, "Stiles, if your dad had died of natural causes, I doubt you would be here asking for the bite."

I broke eye contact with him, not liking the fact that I had been painfully obvious to a very dangerous person.

"Are you going to give me the bite or not?" I spat.

"Why should I give it to you? You said you never wanted to be one of us," Peter retorted, his sarcastic tone giving his comments a deeper sting.

"Please," I pleaded, falling to my knees. "You know that was a lie. Please, I'll do anything," I stated quietly.

Peter crouched so that he was at my eye level.

"Of course you will. That's why you will always be my favorite pup," replied Peter coldly as he leaned forward with crimson eyes.

- O -

I woke up pressed against Peter's naked body. His knot had finally subsided, but his flaccid cock was still inside me. And it felt good. I was honestly surprised at how good it felt: the feeling of belonging, the feeling of power rushing through my veins, the feeling of blood underneath my nails. I stretched languidly feeling tension rolling off my shoulders. I rolled out of the bed, moaning slightly as Peter's girth slid out of me. Peter grunted and rolled over in the bed, the tattered white sheet still covering his lower half.

I rolled my eyes as at how sarcastic his grunt even seemed. I walked to the blackened bathroom and looked at myself in the fractured mirror. I looked exactly the same, which disappointed me a bit. Isaac and Erica had looked pretty bad ass when they were turned and Scott had become more attractive. I sighed realizing that my fabulous were-abs theory was officially debunked. I closed my eyes and reached for the all the pain of losing my father. It hurt worse than losing my mother, and I honestly didn't think that anything could hurt more. But it did.

I let a tear fall, and I hated myself for it. I guess I could understand Allison's rage now. She had been weak and human, and then she lost her mom. She felt weak and powerless so she adopted her family's tradition to feel powerful. I was no better. I had lost my mother, my father and I was always running away from my friends. All because I was weak, so I had turned to Peter and hoped that he would make me feel strong.

It didn't.

I opened my eyes and realized I was a terrible werewolf, because I didn't hear a very naked Peter Hale come into the bathroom and lean against the door frame. He raised an eyebrow, but I broke his gaze and continued to study my face in the shattered mirror in the post-sunrise light.

"You were crying," commented Peter, slinking his way up to me and wrapping one arm around my waist while the other draped over my left shoulder crawling its way down to meet his arm diagonally, so his arms formed a weird human seat belt kind of thing. "Why?" continued Peter.

"I was hoping becoming a werewolf would help make the pain go away, but it hasn't," I summarized flatly.

Peter chuckles softly as he kisses my shoulder, eyes flashing red. "Being a werewolf doesn't make you immune to feelings, Stiles. If you want to the pain to go away, then you're going to have to work for it."

"How do I do that?" I snapped irritably.

"It's quite simple really," drawled Peter, eyes now burning a deep scarlet, "Revenge."

I snorted, "I thought violence wasn't the answer?"

"Why do you think I can deal with the fact that my entire family died in this very house? Because I killed the bitch you took them from me. It's that simple, Stiles," said Peter, as if he were explaining how to wash your hands to a toddler.

I mulled it over for a moment. Could I really kill someone? Could I steal someone's future away from them? I thought about all that had happened. Images flashed before my mind's eye: my mother's withered face, Erica hitting me with parts of my Jeep, Jackson's venom paralyzing me while I watched a man get murdered, Jackson keeping me and Derek in the pool, Scott making first line while I had to bench warm, and finally the foggy eyes of my dad as I saw him in a pool of his own blood, the victim of a hit and run.

Rage filled me and my vision tinted red as I looked back into the mirror to meet Peter's maroon eyes with amber ones. We smiled a wicked smile that promised blood.

_Because, hey, we're wolves, it's what we do._


End file.
